A Thing or Two About Being Human
by LadyWallace
Summary: Sam and Dean teach Cas about human things. Humor/friendship fic, all seasons (some spoilers), no slash. Chapter Six: Cas Gets Cold (It's A Christmas Story!)
1. Cas Gets Sick

**This is a series of one shots I thought would be fun to write about Cas dealing with human things and the boys teaching him about them (which there is a sad lack of in the series). Most of these will probably be a little AU just due to timing and setting, but they're just for fun, so I hope you enjoy them anyway.**

**This first one was requested by 29-pieces-of-me who wanted see Cas dealing with human sick. So that's what this story is. (And also, seriously, go read her stories because they are AWESOME) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the show or characters, they belong to Erik Kripke **

**Title: Cas Gets Sick**

**Setting: Season 9 kinda AU-Human!Cas staying at the bunker.**

**Warnings: None; just a little snot and vomit.**

Castiel was still getting used to the feeling of being completely human. It wasn't the same as when he had fallen previously, for without his grace, he wasn't even angel by default, and was forced to deal with all the issues humans lived with on a daily basis, and had learned to deal with since they were born. He had to learn them himself, and it was taking a lot of work. Even the simplicity of such things as sleep, eating and bodily functions were giving him troubles.

And then there was sickness. Of course, when it happened, Cas didn't even know he was sick at all. In fact, he thought something was terribly wrong when he woke up in the middle of the night feeling very uncomfortable. Had he done something catastrophically wrong with his human body? But no, he had seen Sam and Dean abuse theirs far worse on more than one occasion, and he hadn't done anything to his recollection that could cause such harm. He hadn't over-eaten. He hadn't drunk anything, nor was he wounded. He had only felt a little tired and sore that day, and particularly heavy when he crashed in bed early that night.

He woke feeling suffocated in his blankets, his body hot and hurting, yet when he threw the blankets aside, he shivered. His head also ached horribly and felt fuzzy, confused. Something was dripping from his nose and with fear gripping his stomach—which also felt bad—he wondered if it was blood. He struggled to sit up and turn his lamp on to better see. But when he wiped his hand under his nose and inspected what was there, he found it was worse that blood.

Horrified that he might have some horrible curse put on him, he lurched from off his bed and fought just to get his footing. His head spun and his stomach rolled and he had to lean against the door before he could leave the room. He then stumbled across the hall to Dean's room.

Dean started up in bed as the door opened and watched with surprise as Cas came staggering in, a look of fear on his face, his hand held under his nose.

"Cas, you okay, dude?" Dean asked, wiping a hand over his face and getting out of bed to put a steadying hand on Castiel's shoulder to see what was wrong, surprised when Cas gripped his t-shirt and looked up at him earnestly. "What's wrong with your nose?" He reached out to pull Cas' hand away, but the former angel jerked back, nearly losing his ballence, causing Dean to have to steady him.

"Dean, I think I've been cursed," he said urgently. "My brain is leaking out my nose!"

"What?" Dean asked. "Your brain's not leaking out, Cas, brains don't do that."

"But I can't think, and my head hurts and this…substance is coming out my nose!" Cas cried, pulling his hand back for just an instant to show Dean what he had found earlier but quickly replaced it.

To his surprise and annoyance, Dean just laughed, patting Castiel on the shoulder.

"I don't see what's funny, Dean, I might be dying!" Cas said, his muffled voice only making Dean laugh harder in its seriousness. "Everything hurts and I'm burning from the inside out."

"Ah, Cas," Dean said, trying to smother his grin, shaking his head. "You've just got a cold, man. It's just snot and fever, not your brains leaking. Although it probably does feel like that. You'll be fine. We'll just get you some medicine."

Castiel felt relief seep through him. So he hadn't been cursed. That was good news at least, even if it didn't make him feel any better physically. But Dean seemed to know what he needed, and he was willing to trust him.

"Come to the study, I'll settle you on the couch," Dean said, taking his elbow to guide him out of the room.

They were only out in the hall when Castiel began to feel another odd sensation he wasn't accustomed to. He stopped Dean by tugging his shirt and the hunter turned to him expectantly, frowning at the strange look on his face.

"What?"

"I-I feel strange, Dean…I—" then before he could stop himself, he threw up all over the hunter.

Dean closed his eyes with a long-suffering sigh born of many years of caring for a sick younger brother. "Better?"

"Sorry, Dean," Cas said quietly.

"It's okay, Cas. Let's just get you taken care of."

* * *

><p><em>A few minutes later<em> Dean had settled Cas onto the couch with a bucket, a box of tissues and a thermometer in his mouth…after he had cleaned up the barf and changed his clothes, that is. He found the medicine he needed and went back out to Cas who was huddled miserably in a corner of the couch, the thermometer beeping as soon as Dean got there.

"You're running 101," he said, sitting on the coffee table so he could face Cas.

"Is that bad?" Castiel asked.

"It doesn't feel good, but it's not dangerous," Dean assured him and picked up a bottle of pink liquid. "Okay, first things first, Pepto will help settle your stomach." He handed Cas a little plastic cup and the former angel took it hesitantly, the sight of the syrupy liquid making his stomach turn again.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yep, I need to make sure you can hold the other medicine down before we throw it in there."

Castiel drank the medicine and nearly gagged but somehow managed not to throw up again. Dean took the cup back from him and handed him a glass of water.

"Just sip it," he cautioned.

Sam appeared in the room then, looking half asleep, and trying to flatten his extreme bedhead. "What's going on?"

"Cas has gotten his first flu," Dean announced with a proud smile as if it were some great accomplishment. He patted the former angel's knee as Cas groaned, glaring at him. "Why don't you keep him company, Sammy, while I get him a few more things."

Sam sat down on the couch with Cas and offered him a smile. "How are you doing?" he asked sympathetically.

Castiel shrugged and sniffed grossly, self-consciously putting a hand to his nose again. "I don't like it," he admitted.

Sam took pity on him and reached over to hand him a tissue. "No one does. It sucks being sick. Here, try and blow your nose, you'll be able to breathe better then."

Castiel made several poor attempts but finally managed to blow a really disgusting concoction from his nose that nearly made him vomit again. "Humans are very disgusting at times, Sam," he said, then hoped he hadn't offended the hunter.

Sam laughed though. "Yeah, we are. Especially when we're sick. Dean and I will help you through it though. And trust me, you are a way better invalid that Dean. You should see him when he's sick. He moans and groans as if he were on death's door."

"I heard that, Sammy," Dean growled as he came back with a pillow and a washcloth. He wrapped an arm around Castiel's shoulders to settle him back against the pillow. Cas winced, even that movement hurt, his body was so sensitive, but once he lay back on the soft pillow, he felt a little better and Dean placed the washcloth over his forehead. The coolness surprised Cas but it felt so good, he closed his eyes with a moan, settling back even more.

"Better?" Dean asked.

Cas nodded and Dean went back to the kitchen, returning with a soda and some saltines.

"Try a few of these," Dean urged. "It will help settle your stomach."

Cas reluctantly nibbled a cracker, not wanting to eat at all, everything tasting strange and muffled from his nose. But after a few crackers and several sips of the soda, his stomach did feel better, even if the rest of him didn't.

"I think we can try the Tylenol now," Dean told him, pulling open another bottle of medicine and shaking out a couple pills. "You'll have to swallow them, Cas, and don't chew them."

Cas groaned in protest as Dean forced the pills into his hand, and held the glass of water ready, but he took them readily, knowing that if Dean said they would make him better then they probably would.

Once he had swallowed them, he closed his eyes again, while Dean washed the sweat off his face with the washcloth before returning it to his forehead. "I don't feel any better, Dean."

"It won't happen instantly," Dean told him. "We'll check your temperature again in an hour or so."

"I don't understand, Dean," Cas mumbled. "How did I get sick?"

"Oh, any number of ways. You never know what you pick up in public places."

"Also," Sam added, "how many times do you wash your hands after being out, Cas? You never had to do it before because angels don't get human sickness, but now you'll have to make sure you do. If a sick person touched something you could have easily picked it up if you didn't wash your hands afterward. And since you're not used to it all, your immune system is probably pretty bad right now."

"Oh," Castiel said with a sigh. "I suppose I have many things to learn."

"Don't sweat it, Cas," Dean told him with a smile. "Being human sucks most of the time, not gonna lie. There's nothing easy about it, even when you've been human all your life."

"At least I have you two to teach me," Cas said with a small smile, cracking his eyes open to look at his two friends, his brothers, who always made sure to look out for him, as he returned the favor.

"Yeah, but let's not turn this into a chick flick moment," Dean said, uncomfortable. "How about we watch a movie so you can rest?"

Castiel nodded and while Dean started the movie, he closed his eyes, feeling a bit better, and allowed himself to drift off to sleep, feeling safe with the Winchesters there to look out for him. He knew he would have to learn the ins and outs of being human, but he didn't think he would mind it so much either. Certainly those two had gotten on well enough. So could he. It was much better than having to figure it out on his own, and chick flick moment or not, he would always be utterly grateful to Dean and Sam for taking him in even when he thought himself useless and proving him wrong.

He knew he was very fortunate to have a family like that.

* * *

><p><strong>This is a fic I am opening to requests, so if you would like to see Cas deal with a certain part of being human, please let me know! Depending on how many requests I get, I can't promise I will get to them all in the near future, but don't be afraid to request one anyway :) Anything goes, as long as it's not too strange, but bear in mind I do not read or write slash so I won't do any requests involving that.<strong>


	2. Cas Does the Laundry

**Here's the next one-shot for you! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and faved so far :) This one was requested by Aini NuFire who wanted Cas learning to do the laundry. She also writes awesome family stories for TFW so do check her stories out, you won't be disappointed!**

**Title: Cas Does the Laundry**

**Setting: Season 5**

**Warnings: None**

Cas Does the Laundry

_Set Season 5_

It was rare, but sometimes the Winchesters actually did get a day off from fighting evil and trying to stop the apocalypse. Sometimes, they took those days to relax and other times they had to use them to do chores. When they were at Bobby's that usually meant Sam would bury himself in books and Dean would tinker with the Impala, but when they were on the road, there were other things to be seen to, such as cleaning their weapons and doing laundry. And not just washing monster—and their own—blood off their clothes in the motel bathtub, but actually doing a proper wash so they could enter society without frightening off women and children with their stench.

One of these days, Castiel happened to be with the brothers in their hotel room and decided to accompany them to the laundry mat, always interested to see the inner workings of human existence, even something so mundane as washing clothes. Dean shrugged when he relayed this to him, and they drove down the street to the laundry mat.

Sam went to pick up some supplies at the Quick Mart down the block and Dean grabbed the bag of dirty clothes out of the trunk. Castiel followed him inside.

"Okay, Cas," Dean said as he set the bag beside one of the machines and opened the lid. "You seem interested in this, so let me show you how you use one of these. You might need to know someday, even though you just seem to be able to mojo your clothes back into off the rack cleanliness." He cast a reproachful look at the trench coat, and Castiel ran his hands over it almost protectively. He had actually come to be rather fond of it.

"First things, first," Dean said, grabbing the bag of clothes. "The most important thing to remember is to separate whites and colors. I know that sounds all Martha Stewart, but you don't want to end up with funky colored whites because you washed them with all the colored clothes. So we put one set in one washer and the other in another."

Castiel watched him as he sorted the clothes. A kid who was sitting on a chair on the other side of the room waiting for her mom watched them curiously, giving Castiel an odd look. He tried to smile at her but she still watched him suspiciously.

"You'll need quarters to run it," Dean told him, fishing in his pocket for money. "Just stick as many as will fit into the slots and push it in."

"After that, you start the washer by turning this knob and put the soap in," Dean said, showing him a carton that he opened, and poured the blue syrupy contents into the cap. "About one cup full will do." He poured it in and bubbles began to form. Then he closed the washer and did the same with the whites.

"Then we just wait until they're done," Dean said and went to sit down on a bench, shuffling through the magazines and wrinkling his nose at the choices.

"What then?" Castiel asked.

"You have to dry them."

Castiel watched the people go about their business, doing washes and folding clothes into neat, or not so neat piles. Dean showed him how to work the dryer, which didn't have as many steps as the washer and also apparently didn't need the clothing separated. When they were done, Cas wondered whether he should help Dean fold the clothes, but the hunter just shoved everything back into the bag, without bothering.

"Come on, let's go get Sam and find something to eat, I'm starving!" Dean told him.

It was several weeks later that Castiel decided to use some of this new knowledge for good. They had just completed a hunt that had taken them several days to figure out, and Sam and Dean had both been bashed around quite a bit. Castiel had helped see to their wounds and they were now resting in the motel room, trying to gain a little of the sleep they had lost over the last few days. Castiel had planned on having food for them when they woke up, but he didn't want it to get cold either, so he looked around for something else he could do to pass the time. He knew Dean didn't really like it when he sat and waited for them to wake up, watching them sleep. He didn't really understand the problem, only wanting to keep an eye out for trouble, but Dean had some very strange quirks that Castiel wasn't sure he would ever figure out.

Then he remembered seeing a laundry mat across the street and decided he would take their clothes for a wash. He was sure he could remember what Dean had shown him, and then it was one more thing that the brothers wouldn't have to do. He gathered the clothing strewn everywhere and put it into the bag with the other dirty clothes and flew across the street, appearing at the door of the laundry mat. It was late in the afternoon and there were only a few other people there. He tried to look natural, like a normal human going about normal business. He selected a washing machine and dumped the clothes into it, trying to remember what was next. He reached for the quarters in his pocket that he had taken from the motel table and pushed them into the slot before he turned the knob on the machine which made the water go in. He was satisfied that he had remembered that and then found the soap and poured a cup in.

He waited for the wash to finish, feeling good that he had actually accomplished a simple human task without apparent catastrophe. It really was a stupid thing to feel accomplished about, and rather sad when he thought about it. This was all he could do after he had once been a full-powered angel. Laundry excited him. He had certainly fallen very far.

The wash ended, pulling him from his melancholy thoughts and he grabbed the wet clothes and put them into the dryer, digging out more quarters. He waited that out too, watching the other people in the place, washing and folding clothes. When the load was finally done, he pulled the warm clothing out of the dryer and set it on a table, deciding he would fold it, figuring Sam would be impressed, even if Dean didn't care.

However, as he began to lay out the clothes, he realized that he had made a grave mistake, forgetting the most important thing Dean had taught him.

He held up a t-shirt that had been white, but was now a light pink.

It seemed his enthusiasm had been premature. All of the white clothes, t-shirts, underwear and even the white parts in the plaid button-downs were pink. Sam and Dean were not going to be happy about this.

Castiel sighed and threw all the clothes back into the bag and appeared a second later in the motel room.

Dean woke to Cas standing over him with a pained expression on his face and a pile of something in his arms.

"Dude, what, I haven't gotten my four hours yet," he slurred, wincing as he sat up.

Castiel held out the pile and tumbled it into Dean's lap. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I was just trying to help but I seem to have made a mistake."

Dean frowned, sorting through the pile and grabbing a pair of his underwear, holding it up for closer inspection. "What the…Cas, did you wash this?"

"Yes Dean," Castiel said as if he were doomed for the gallows. "With the darks. I forgot."

Dean was fighting the urge to laugh, even though he was kinda ticked that his clothes were pink. "Dude, now I'm gonna have to wear pink underwear."

"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel said again but Dean reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his coat.

"Hey, Cas, it's okay, we've all done it once. No big deal. I'll just throw all of these into Sam's bag," he grinned and Castiel felt a little better, knowing that Dean wasn't mad at him.

"It was nice of you to wash our stuff though," Dean added. "Next time, just remember to separate the whites and darks."

"I will," Cas told him.

When Sam woke, and they were getting ready to leave, he opened his bag and groaned. "Dude, what happened? Why are my clothes pink? EW! And why are _your_ underwear in here!"

"I don't know, Sam, it wasn't me," Dean called, winking at Cas.

Castiel couldn't help a small smile. Dean could use all the amusement he could get, even if it came at his brother's expense and because of the angel's mistake.

"Come on, Samantha," Dean called. "Let's hit the road!"

Sam grumbled as he zipped up his bag and Cas followed him and Dean out of the room.

"Coming Cas?" Dean asked him.

Castiel confirmed and got into the back of the Impala, feeling at home. Glad that he could be with people who still cared about him despite his shortcomings.

Even if he had caused them to wear pink underwear from then on.

* * *

><p><strong>Hope you all enjoyed this, and that you had a good weekend! Remember to get your requests to me if you think of anything you want to see Cas tackle. I'll have more up next weekend. In the meantime, check out my other stories if you are inclined. I have more of the boys and Cas guaranteed slash free.<strong>


	3. Cas Cooks Dinner

**This is another request from 29-pieces-of-me Who wanted Cas making a pie and having trouble with the washing machine :P This was a really fun one to write. Again, check out her stories if you have not read them! Hope you all enjoy! I will try to get another story up this weekend.**

**Title: Cas Cooks Dinner**

**Setting: Season 9 AU (Human!Cas living at the bunker.)**

**Warnings: None**

Cas Cooks Dinner

_Season 9 AU_

Castiel didn't like being laid up. Now he knew why Sam and especially Dean were always bad tempered when they needed to recover from injuries. _He _was very frustrated and bad tempered because of it. Just that morning he had had a row with the Winchesters because they were going out on a hunt and forbade him to come.

"I can still fight," he assured them, though in truth, felt utterly helpless. He had three broken ribs and a twisted knee from a fight with a werewolf the week before. The fact that they still hadn't healed annoyed him more than anything. That was definitely something he would never get used to with being human. How long it took for even minor injuries to heal. He had gotten a paper cut yesterday and it still stung whenever he put soap on his hands.

"Cas, come on, man," Dean pleaded. He was tired of arguing with the former angel. Castiel knew that too, and part of him felt bad, but for the most part he was just frustrated with his impotent situation. "You know you're not used to fighting hurt. Everything feels twice as bad to you as it does normal people because you're not used to feeling pain like that. I can't have you out there, worrying about watching your back when I'm trying to fight. Okay?"

Castiel glared at him, opening his mouth to say something else before Sam cut in, more gently.

"We really do appreciate your help, Cas, always, but Dean's right. We don't want you to get hurt any worse than you are. You'll be fine soon enough, but just stay here this time okay? Enjoy some relaxing for a while! It's pretty rare for us."

"You and Dean never 'enjoy relaxing' when you're wounded," Castiel returned scathingly. "But I do understand your reservations. I realize I am a liability now that I am human." He couldn't help the bitterness even though he knew he shouldn't have said that.

"Cas, don't do that," Dean said in exasperation, gripping his shoulder before quickly removing it at Castiel's wince. "You know you're still just as good a fighter as you ever were, angel or not; and what are we, anyway? Sam and I get beat up all the time, you know that, you've healed us countless times. But you've got to know your limits now. Take care of your human body, cause they break down, Cas. So stay here and rest up, okay?"

"Fine," Castiel said with a sigh and watched as the brothers left the bunker with their bags.

He went back to the couch in the living room and slumped down, jarring his ribs slightly in the process. He groaned and reached for the TV remote. Even learning how to use this device had taken a patient Sam nearly an hour and he still wasn't entirely sure how everything worked. He could turn it on now though, and he did, flipping idly through channels.

TV was a fascinating look into the lives of humans. Or so he had thought until Dean assured him that life really wasn't like the shows called 'Soap Operas'. Castiel didn't even understand why they were called 'Soap Operas'. They had nothing to do with singing or cleanliness.

He liked the game shows better, at least you sometimes learned things from them, but today, he settled on the cooking channel and was watching a woman make 'comfort food'. These shows had a whole new appeal to Castiel now that he needed food to survive. He could probably eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the rest of his life and be happy, but he had found other food to be pleasant as well. Like ice cream, pizza, hamburgers, and burritos. He was also rather fond of waffles and that lucky cereal with the colored pieces that, no matter how much he ate, never seemed to change his fortune even if it did taste good.

He watched the women make a pot roast for a few minutes before the commercial break came on, and she promised to show the viewers how to make a pie next. Castiel sat up straighter. Dean liked pie a lot, and Castiel had grown rather fond of it too. He had been feeling bad about his conversation with the brothers before they left that morning, so perhaps he could do something to make up for that. He could make them dinner and Dean a pie.

He grabbed a pad of paper and took notes as the lady made the apple pie. It didn't look too hard, and Castiel thought he should be able to manage it. Now what to make for dinner?

He watched more of the cooking shows, and finally settled on spaghetti and meatballs. That looked easy too, and Castiel had recently tried it at a restaurant and decided it was another favorite dish of his, even if it was very hard to eat and had caused Sam and Dean to snicker as they watched his attempts to keep the noodles on his fork. Having figured out his menu, he went to the kitchen to see if he had everything he needed.

Amazingly, and probably thanks to Sam, there were apples for the pie and he even found tomato sauce and spaghetti for the main course. Now he just had to figure out what he was doing. He would make the pie first and the pasta later so it wouldn't get cold before Sam and Dean got back. He checked the notes he had taken about pie.

The first step was the peel and slice the apples. Castiel decided that his angel blade would do well enough, and set to work. This was easy. Once he had sliced them into the bowl, he searched for the other ingredients for the filling: sugar, cinnamon, and a little flour to thicken, the lady on the TV had said. They smelled good when he mixed them up and when he tasted one, they didn't seem too terrible. This small victory was short lived however, once he started on the crust.

Mixing the ingredients wasn't really hard. You only needed several things: flour, shortening, salt and cold water. But measuring the shortening proved difficult, for once he had gotten it into the cup, it didn't want to come out. Eventually his hands were covered in it and he was frantically looking around the kitchen for something…ah, that rubbery stick thing that the lady had used on TV. That should work.

Once he had scraped the shortening into the bowl and scrubbed it off his hands without much success, he stirred it with a fork until it was doughy. He took it over to the island and put the dough on it, flattening it out as well as he could with his hands. Then he remembered he was supposed to have two crusts, one for the bottom and one for the top. Sighing, he tried to take the dough up again, but it wouldn't move, and shredded everywhere. Frowning he looked at his notes and realized he had forgotten to put flour down first.

He finally managed to scrape the dough up and separated it into two parts before flattening it on the flour. This made moving it much easier. Some parts were thinner than others, but he thought that would be okay. He searched around for a pie plate and when he located one, he transferred the crust into it then went to pour the apples in. Now for the top crust.

The lady on the cooking show had made an intricate weave on hers, and Castiel decided he would try it, starting by cutting his remaining crust into strips and laying them over the apples. It didn't look quite right and nowhere near as nice as the cooking lady's had done, but it was his first pie, and it had gone together. Even if some of the crust was bigger than others and hung off the sides.

He took the pie off the counter and decided that he wouldn't cook it quite yet. The spaghetti sauce was, according to his notes, supposed to simmer for several hours, so he should probably start that now.

He searched the refrigerator to find an onion and garlic and hamburger meat, except they had eaten the hamburgers the night before and all that was left were sausage patties. It would have to do, Castiel decided.

He set the meat aside, and took up his angel blade again, taking the onion and garlic to the table where he had made the pie. He swept some of the flour to one side and looked at the onion. He didn't remember eating it with the crinkly skin so maybe he had to peel it like the apple. He did so and then began chopping it into tiny pieces.

His eyes began to smart and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear then, but they just ran more and he stopped chopping and rubbed his sleeve against them. Was he crying? Why? He didn't feel sad, and he didn't think he was that bad at figuring out human emotions. He quickly finished the onions, sniffing the whole time, and wondered if it was something to do with cutting up onions that had made him emotional because it stopped when he had finished. The garlic was easier, and again he realized he should peel it, so he was done quickly and went to find a pan to put them in.

He knew how to turn on the stove and the oven, thanks to Dean, and he put the pan on one of the burners, and threw the meat and onions into the pan, hearing the sizzle, the smell making him hungry. He went to find the spices recommended but realized he hadn't written down an amount. He would just have to guess at it and dashed a few sprinkles of everything. The recipe had also called for wine, but there wasn't any in the bunker, so Castiel decided he would substitute it for scotch instead. He jumped back as it hissed angrily at him upon entering the pan but it settled down soon enough.

Once the meat was cooked, he got the can of tomato sauce then realized he couldn't open it. There was nothing to pop it open like soda cans, and he didn't know what he was supposed to do with it. Maybe he would use his blade.

It only took one stab of the angel blade to open the can, and some sauce spurted onto the floor in the process. Cas poured the sauce into the pan and stirred everything together before he put a lid on and sat down to wait for it to finish cooking.

He went back to the living room and watched some more cooking shows. He was startled when his phone rang and grabbed it to see Dean was calling.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Hey Cas, Sam and I finished the hunt, it was easier than expected. We'll be back in about an hour. You doing okay?"

"I'm fine," Cas said, getting up to head back to the kitchen. He needed to finish cooking.

"Okay, see you soon."

Castiel hurried to set the oven right for the pie, and put it onto the rack. He checked the sauce, and thought it was cooking well enough. Now for the spaghetti. That was easy; just boil water and put the noodles in.

Once he had started to boil the water, he looked around and realized what a mess the kitchen was. There were still dishes in the sink from the night before. Dean wasn't necessarily always on the ball when it came to cleaning, and Sam didn't usually cook. There was the machine that washed dishes though, and Castiel had seen how Dean put stuff in it and they came out clean. It was kind of like the washing machine but for dishes, and it had fascinated Cas seeing the results for the first time. He loaded it up and then looked around for the soap. He couldn't seem to find any though, and knew it wasn't the dish soap for the sink. Maybe it used the same soap as the washing machine.

Cas went to find the laundry soap and by the time he got back and poured it in, starting the washer, the water for the pasta had boiled so he poured it in.

He stirred the sauce again, frowning as he saw it sticking to the bottom of the pan. He didn't think it should be doing that.

He was so occupied with trying to fix it, taking it off the stove to stir vigorously, that he didn't notice what was happening behind him with the dishwasher. When he finally turned, he nearly dropped the pan of sauce.

The washer had foam pouring from the seams and dripping all over the floor, growing larger and larger by the minute. He set the pan down and ran to press the buttons, not finding one that would stop it.

"No, stop!" he cried, finally just opening the machine which only resulted in a flood of soapsuds whooshing out over his feet to cover the floor.

He ran for the mop, but his injured knee nearly collapsed at the sudden movement and he slipped in the soap and fell, jarring his broken ribs painfully. He curled up, trying to stop the pain and get his breath back, but more suds came to engulf him. He scrambled back to his feet and saw that at least the machine had stopped working, even if the bubbles and water kept flooding the floor. He mopped up as much as he could, wringing it into a bucket, but there was still a lot of it on the floor.

That was when he smelled burning. He frowned, before he realized with horror: "The pie!"

He ran across to the oven, nearly slipping again and opened the door, seeing the top of the crust a lot darker than it should be. Without thinking, he reached for it, only to be met with a white hot pain in his fingers and palms and realized how hot it was. He pulled back quickly, muffling a yelp, and grabbed a towel to protect his hands with, grabbing the pie and almost throwing it onto the counter. It was then he realized the towel was on fire. He yelled and threw it into the sink, running the water and coughing on the smoke as he ran his burned hands under the cold tap, wincing.

He looked at them gingerly. The skin was red and shiny in several places. It didn't look as bad as it could have been, but was extremely painful. Even more so than his broken ribs, maybe. He only hoped the pie wasn't ruined.

He finally ventured from the cold water and went to find a bandage to cover his burns. When he came back, he remembered the pasta and thought it was likely done by now. When he tried to stir it, however, he found it stuck in a lump on the bottom of the pan. He quickly pulled it off and drained the water, being careful not to burn himself again.

So far everything had seemed to be a disaster, he thought blandly as he tried to loosen the pasta from the pan. Cooking was a lot harder than he thought it was going to be. Just another human thing he couldn't master.

He looked at the clock and realized Sam and Dean would be home soon. He hurried to clean up as much of the still lingering water and suds as possible, and was just setting plates out when he heard the brothers return.

"Cas, we're back!" Dean called. "What is that smell?"

Heavy footsteps raced into the kitchen and Castiel started awkwardly, quickly hiding his burned hands, as Sam and Dean skidded to a halt just inside the kitchen. They actually skidded, as there was still some soap on the floor.

"Cas, is everything all right?" Sam asked, sniffing the air that still had a burnt smell to it and looking at the floor curiously.

Castiel ducked his head sheepishly. "I…made dinner. Or tried to, at least."

The boys looked at him for a few seconds before they smiled. Dean came over to Cas and clapped him on the shoulder. "Look at you, Cas, you're one frilly apron away from being a regular housewife."

"I'm afraid it might not be very good. I had a series of…accidents," Castiel admitted and Dean looked over to the open dishwasher still dripping, beside which he could see the laundry soap. He decided it best not to say anything about it at the moment.

"I'm sure Sam and I have eaten worse, serve 'er up!"

Castiel grabbed the spaghetti strainer and started to dish out the lumps of spaghetti onto three plates then poured some of the charred sauce over it.

"This looks…great, Cas," Dean said with a smile, only hesitating slightly.

Castiel couldn't really blame him. It didn't look nearly as good as the spaghetti he had eaten at the diner.

They sat at the table and started eating. Castiel watched the Winchesters tentatively try the pasta, watching their hooded reactions before he tried it himself. It wasn't as bad as he had anticipated. Some parts tasted better than others, the ones that weren't charred onto the pan, and the pasta was so stuck together it had to be cut, but it was better than he had hoped. It was just rather hard to eat with his burned hand. Thankfully Sam and Dean hadn't noticed it yet.

When they had finished, Dean sat back in the chair with a sigh. "Well, Cas, I would say that wasn't too bad for your first cooking experience."

"Really?" Castiel asked skeptically.

"Yeah, you should have seen Sammy's," Dean said with a laugh as his brother made a face at him. "He tried cooking for me when he was five and I was sick. It made me sicker."

"It was only canned soup, and you still ate it all, Dean," Sam retorted, smirking slightly.

"And you wonder why I was sick for a week," Dean shot back.

Cas smiled at them before he stood up. "I also made pie," he said tentatively.

Dean's eyes lit up. "Bring it!"

Castiel went back to the kitchen and cut several slices of the pie, carrying it out to the table. It was decidedly black, and looked even more mangled than it had when he put it in the oven. He set the slices in front of the brothers and then sat down with his own, watching anxiously as Dean took his first bite.

It seemed to Cas he might have had a hard time swallowing it, but he drank from his glass and smiled at Castiel.

"Is it…okay?" Cas asked.

"Cas," Dean told him. "You didn't forget the pie. That's all that matters."

Castiel smiled slightly and took a bite of his own. It was burned and awful, but Dean and Sam ate every bite.

When they had finished, Cas stood up to take their plates into the kitchen. When he took Dean's the hunter grabbed his wrist before he could pull back and eyed the bandage on his hand.

"Cas, what did you do?" he asked in a voice only an older brother would have perfected.

Cas tried to pull away but winced. Dean set his plate aside, and peeled back the bandages, revealing the red flesh. Sam hissed in sympathy.

"That looks pretty bad, Cas," the younger Winchester said as Dean moved to the other hand and revealed that too.

"What happened?" was all Dean asked, looking up to meet Cas' eyes.

"It was just a stupid accident."

"Maybe you should start at the beginning," Dean said, motioning for Cas to sit down. Castiel sighed and began telling the brothers about his escapades as Sam fetched the first aid kit and Dean salved and bandaged Cas' burned hands. He could see Dean's mouth trying not to smile on several occasions during the story, and when he had finally finished, he patted Castiel's elbow fondly.

"You're well on your way to being a human yet, Cas. There isn't a human out there who hasn't made the same mistakes at some point," he said, standing and gathering the dishes himself. "Come on, let me show you how to properly clean up the kitchen.

Castiel stood, unable to help a grateful smile. He knew that most of his learning was going to be trial and error, but, he supposed, as long as he learned from his mistakes, it couldn't be that bad.

Besides. He _had _remembered the pie, after all.


	4. Cas Gets Sunburned

**Here's another story for you this weekend! This wasn't a prompt fic, it's just one I came up with and decided I wanted to write. More human problems for poor Cas :( As always, if you have prompts, do let me know. I can't promise to write all of them, but put 'em out there anyway!**

**Title: Cas Gets Sunburned**

**Setting: Season 9 human!Cas (kinda AU cause they're happy lol, terrible :P)**

**Warnings: None unless you want to count shirtless!Cas *shock* :P**

* * *

><p>"Come on, Cas, hurry up, we want to get in some relaxing time before we have to head back."<p>

Castiel followed Dean and Sam reluctantly, feeling strange in his new attire that Dean had told him was appropriate for the beach. They had come to hunt a water monster, and thankfully, the job had gone down without too much trouble, leaving them a few free days to relax. Sam was still recovering from the trials and Castiel knew Dean thought it was important he get as much downtime as possible. And since they were already on the beach, they decided to take advantage of that.

"Dean, I feel rather uncomfortable and exposed," Castiel told his friend, hugging his arms over his bare chest. This probably wouldn't have bothered him much before, but since he had become fully human, he found he was more susceptible to human emotion and had become more likely to get uncomfortable in certain situations where he had come to understand humans occasionally felt discomfort.

"Dude, you need to get some sun," Dean told him with a grin. "And seriously, three words: chicks in bikinis."

That didn't make Castiel want to go out there any more than before, but he sighed and finally got out of the car and followed the brothers down to the beach, mainly concentrating on not killing himself on the sandals he wore that were uncomfortable between his toes. Dean had promised they could get ice cream later, and he was rather fond of ice cream so maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

The sun was very hot and the water looked inviting. It didn't take Castiel long to decide that he wanted to join Sam and Dean in the waves and found it to be very refreshing. It was also good to see the boys having fun, and seeming not to care about much of anything at the moment. They needed more days like that.

He was startled when Dean suddenly grabbed the back of his neck and ducked him under the water. Castiel came up spluttering to Dean's laughter and turned to glare at the hunter.

"I didn't find that amusing, Dean," he said.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Cas," Dean told him, splashing water in his face. "It's just for fun. Come on, let's go get Sam."

When they got tired of making each other inhale water—an act that was so uncomfortable, Castiel thought they must employ it as a torture in hell—they went back to the beach and ate lunch before laying down in the warm sand to have a rest. The feeling of the hot sand under him was so pleasant that Castiel found himself drifting off, and decided it wouldn't hurt to take a small nap. After all, they were relaxing. He dozed off while watching some children nearby make a sandcastle.

The rest of the day was just as enjoyable and they did get ice cream later before heading back to the hotel room to stay one more night before they'd have to leave.

Castiel showered to get the salt water off and found when he stepped out that his skin felt oddly tight and stung slightly, but figured it might just be a part of the lingering salt water and didn't think much more of it. He was pleasantly exhausted from the day at the beach, and was glad to get into his bed that night and fell asleep easily.

He woke in the middle of the night to a painful sensation. He groaned as he rolled over onto his back, feeling as if his entire upper body was on fire. He pushed the blankets off gingerly and ran his hands down his chest, looking for the source of the pain. His skin stung strangely when he touched it and as he grimaced, his face crinkled and hurt the same way. Staggering to his feet, he ran to the bathroom and turned the light on to see what was wrong with him.

As he looked into the mirror, he gasped in horror. His entire face as well as his neck and arms were red. He peeled off his t-shirt and saw his torso was the same, and when he turned around, his back was crimson as well. What on earth had happened? Perhaps he was allergic to seawater?

"Cas?" Sam stood in the doorway of the bathroom, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "What…oh crap, you look awful!"

"Sam, what is wrong with me?" Castiel asked worriedly. "I feel like I'm on fire!"

"Don't worry, it's nothing too bad, though I'm sure it's uncomfortable," Sam told him, making Castiel feel a bit better. "I thought Dean was going to give you the sunblock. I should have known better."

"What is it?" Castiel asked.

"Sunburn. It was really bright today, I'm really sorry I didn't think to ask if you had put on sunblock. I forget that you don't know all these little things about everyday stuff." Sam smiled ruefully at him and motioned for him to come back out to the room. "Come on, we might have some aloe to put on you."

Castiel limped after Sam and eased himself down to sit miserably on the side of the bed, his back straight and even that position hurting. There seemed to be no way to alleviate the pain. Every small move he made only caused the burning sensation to be worse. He couldn't understand why he hadn't felt it before. Why had he not felt the sun burning him when they were on the beach? It had felt so pleasant then.

Dean groaned after Sam switched the light on and dug around in their first aid kit. He sat up with a dazed expression.

"What's going on?"

"Cas got a sunburn," Sam informed him. "It's pretty bad. Do we have any of the aloe left?"

Dean looked over at Cas sitting on the other bed, and his eyes popped open. "Dude, sunburn is an understatement, you look like a tomato!" he exclaimed, half horrified, half laughing.

"Dean, come on," Sam said with a sigh. "You should have made sure he had put on sunblock. I thought you were going to."

"I can't remember everything," Dean protested. "It's been a long time since I've had to look after someone."

Cas pressed his red skin gingerly, finding it hot to the touch, and hissed at the pain. His head also ached and he felt a bit sick to his stomach. He wondered if that was another side effect. Dean saw his discomfort and his look turned instantly to concern. He got up and went to sit next to Castiel. Cas flinched back, afraid Dean would touch him.

The hunter gave a low whistle. "Man, you really did get burned. I'm really sorry about that, Cas. I wasn't thinking."

"It's not your fault, Dean," Castiel assured him, grimacing as he shifted again. "I should have paid better attention."

"No, Cas, it is my fault. I just need to remind myself that you're new to all this and everything is strange to you. That you don't know any of the stuff Sam and I have known since we were kids."

"Found it!" Sam said, triumphantly holding up a bottle of aloe. Dean took it from him and motioned to Cas.

"Lay on your stomach and I'll put some of this on your back first. It will make you feel much better, trust me."

Cas did as he asked, his upper body protesting the movement and the burns on his chest making him grit his teeth in pain. "It hurts, Dean," he commented miserably.

"Yeah, I know, buddy. Just wait till you start peeling! The pain will be nothing compared to the itching."

"Dean!" Sam protested as Cas shot up on his elbows and craned his neck back to look horrified at Dean despite the pain the quick movement caused him.

"Peeling? Will this cause my skin to peel off?"

"Only the first layer," Dean told him, popping the bottle of aloe open. "Don't worry, it's all normal. Everyone gets sunburned all the time. Now lay down."

Castiel gasped as Dean first squeezed some of the aloe onto his back. It was cold and wet against his burned skin, but as the hunter worked on slathering it over the red areas, it soothed the burning sensation, and Cas closed his eyes with a sigh.

"Better?" Dean asked, as he finished up.

Castiel nodded. "Yes, Dean. Thank you."

After a few moments, Dean helped him sit up and handed him the bottle. Cas gingerly dabbed more of the aloe onto his chest and the end result felt better though he was too sticky to want to lay down on the bed again so Dean got him a towel to lay on and he slumped onto his side, watching the TV that Sam had turned on for him since he didn't think he could sleep for a while.

Dean came back with some pills and a glass of water. "Is your head aching?" he asked.

Cas nodded, realizing it for the first time.

Dean smiled ruefully. "Yeah, you probably got a little overheated. Next time, Cas, we'll take better care of you when we have a beach day. Promise. Take these and they'll help."

Castiel took them dutifully and closed his eyes to try and rest. Every time something like this happened, he felt stupider than before. How could he not know about these simple things, like the sun burning people without protection? So he didn't blame Dean and Sam when they forgot to remind him of things. They really had no need to do so. He should have known about things and not have to ask them everything. But he was also so very lucky that he had them there, and that they took care of him, even when they forgot to tell him about some simple mundane things. It was more than he could ever ask for. They were his family, and what was a little sunburn between family?

He smiled slightly as he fell asleep. The medicine helping to ease the pain and discomfort of these new human afflictions. If he were going to have to be human, he wouldn't consider having anyone else around but Sam and Dean to teach him things.


	5. Cas Goes Fishing

**Okay, finally got this story updated again! So sorry for the delay, I was busy working on another story I'm co-authoring. Anyway, this is a request from Aini NuFire She wanted Cas to learn how to fish. She's just started a new story herself, so go check it out if you love Team Free Will goodness and family feels :) I hope you like this, Aini, and sorry for the wait!**

**Title: Cas Goes Fishing**

**Setting: Season 5**

**Warnings: None**

Cas Goes Fishing

Castiel was still not entirely sure how he felt about the human idea of 'relaxation'. Certainly, he could see the merits, especially when it came to lives as hectic as the Winchesters lived, but it still seemed rather unnecessary to him, especially when so many other things were going on. Perhaps what confused him most were the ways humans 'relaxed'. The strangest yet was this new idea that Dean had coaxed him into doing with him, which had ended up with them out in the middle of a lake in a small boat getting bitten by flying bugs.

"Dean, I don't understand why this is entertaining," Castiel said, holding up the 'fishing pole' Dean had given him.

"Come on, Cas, don't be a spoil sport," Dean told him, clapping him hard on the shoulder. "Fishing is relaxing and we could all do with some of that, right?"

"Fishing is for fishermen, Dean, it's a way poor people feed themselves. I don't see where relaxation comes into it."

"Well we don't need fish to eat, this isn't exactly medieval times, so we're just seeing what we can catch and if we do, we'll eat those!" Dean told him, grabbing the pole from him. "Here, I'll bait it for you the first time."

Castiel watched dispassionately as Dean fitted a worm onto the hook and handed him the pole back, the wiggling worm almost slapping him in the face. "What do I do with this?" he asked, wishing Sam hadn't begged off on the fishing trip so that Dean decided to ask the angel instead.

The hunter gave a longsuffering sigh, taking the line and throwing it over the side of the boat. "You throw it into the water, and wait until you get a bite."

"That's it?" Castiel asked, unimpressed. "And what do we do in the meantime?"

Dean smiled. "Sit back and wait, have a beer or two, see? Relaxing!"

"It seems like a waste of time when we should be out trying to stop the Apocalypse."

"Oh, Cas," Dean groaned. "Lighten up. Everyone needs a day to themselves. Now shut up and relax or I'll toss you over the side."

Castiel clamped his mouth shut, still annoyed and not liking getting bitten by the bugs. It was very uncomfortable. But as he cast a glance over at Dean who had slouched back against the side of the small boat with a languid look on his face, he decided that it might be worth it after all. If only for the fact that Dean was at least 'relaxing'. It just wasn't something in Castiel's nature to do.

As he was thinking, Dean sat up straight, and turned to him, gripping his pole tighter. "I got a bite, here, get the net, Cas. I'll show you how to reel it in."

Castiel set his pole aside and took up the net in the bottom of the boat and held it out for Dean. He watched with mild interest as Dean pulled the fish in and dropped it, wriggling, into the net.

"See? That's how it's done!" he said as Cas watched the fish flop around in the bottom of the boat. Dean took the hook from the fish and reached around for another worm.

"Let's see who can catch the most!" he grinned, throwing his line back in. "I think it's time for a drink." He reached into the cooler they had brought and pulled out two bottles of beer, handing one to Cas. The angel decided he could drink one; after all, it seemed like it would be rude to make Dean drink alone.

"Did your father take you fishing?" Castiel asked after a few moments of silence.

Dean drank for a moment then swallowed, shaking his head. "Not really. Bobby did though. When Sam and I were kids. He did lots of things with us that Dad didn't have time for."

"I'm sorry," Castiel said, without knowing why he did.

"Hey, it's all right. It's in the past now, nothing we can do about that," Dean told him putting on the carefree façade, though underneath, Castiel could see that sadness that was always there, that he wished more than anything didn't have to be. So if Dean wanted to drag him fishing, he shouldn't complain. If the hunter could have a few hours of quiet happiness, who was he to keep him from that?

He was startled when his fishing pole started moving. He had set it aside against his knee for the moment and grabbed it again so it wouldn't go over the side.

"Dean," he called, feeling the tugging.

"Hey, you got one, Cas!" Dean exclaimed. "Reel 'er in! Nice and slow."

"Like this?" Castiel asked as he started to wind the fish in.

"Yeah! Here, I'll get the net."

Dean reached for the net, setting aside his own fishing pole, when he got a tug on his own line, and reached for the pole just as it was tugged from the boat. He cursed and reached for it.

"I think I've got it, Dean!" Castiel said, with a small smile, actually pleased with himself as he pulled a wriggling fish out of the water, he turned to see Dean reaching over the side of the boat. "What are you doing?" He frowned.

"I lost my fishing pole. Here, hand me the net so I can reach it."

Castiel reached for the dropped net but in his haste, he swung his own pole over and his fish slapped Dean in the face, knocking him off balance and tipping him over the side with a spluttering cry.

"Dean!" Castiel cried, making sure he put his fishing pole into the bottom of the boat so he couldn't do any more damage with it before leaning over to make sure Dean was alight.

The hunter surfaced, gripping the side of the boat and spat water on the angel's trench coat. He held his fishing pole and tossed it into the boat, shaking water out of his face.

"What was that? I asked you to help, not send me into the drink."

"Sorry, Dean," Castiel said, reaching down for the hunter. "Here, I'll help you up."

"No, Cas, wait!" Dean said as Castiel leaned over to grab the back of his shirt, realizing his mistake too late. Dean tried to shove him backwards, but there was no use, as more of his body was already out of the boat than in it and the small boat was tipping alarmingly. He could do nothing but fall on Dean and bring them both into the water again, the boat rolling over completely.

The trench coat weighed Castiel down so that he had to swim hard to get up to the surface and he almost sank again when he got up there, and would have, if Dean didn't grab the back of his coat and haul him over to the capsized boat. Cas spluttered and gripped the side of the boat, looking at Dean in shock, before the hunter started laughing, shaking his head so that water slapped Castiel in the face.

"Well, I guess we became the fish, Cas."

"Sorry," Castiel said.

"That's okay, you just have to learn to be more careful in boats," Dean said. "Now let's see if we can get this thing back upright so we can head back to shore."

With some difficulties, they righted the boat and managed to climb back in without falling back into the water. So much for a relaxing afternoon fishing.

They trudged back to Bobby's house, soaking wet, finding Sam sitting out on the porch reading. He looked up and laughed as he saw them.

"What happened to you? I thought you were catching fish, not the other way around."

"Shut up, Sam," Dean told him good-naturedly. "If I don't get dry clothes soon, I'll start chafing."

Sam looked up at Cas as Dean went into the house, smiling at the angel. "Thanks for looking after him for the day, Cas. He looks happier than he has for a while."

Castiel nodded. "I think there might actually be something to this relaxing. You should do it more often. I might even endeavor to try it more myself."

Sam grinned. "It's always a good thing."

"If one doesn't turn over the boat," Castiel added.

Sam laughed. "Yeah, I guess that could be a bit of a problem."

But either way, it was still important that they weren't out fighting that day. They would have enough to do before long, out risking their lives again; they should make time to afford a day of relaxation for sanity's sake. Even if you got wet in the process and didn't catch any fish after all.

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><p><strong>Please also go check out the fic I'm co-authoring with AnastaziaDanielle. It's "Life's Little Surprises" on my profile. If you want to see Sam and Dean taking care of a little girl, this is a story for you :) And if you like more Cas centered stories, I've got a few more of those too! I'll update this story again when I can, and remember, if you have a request, let me know! If you've already given me one, I will be getting to it soon, don't worry!<strong>


	6. Cas Gets Cold

**Well, I had to write some Christmas fluff for everyone, so I decided to make it one of this series. I hope you all enjoy it. Also, if you still have a request you send me that I have not written yet, I am still planning on writing them, though probably not until after New Years. Just too busy right now, but I promise it will be up! In the meantime, please enjoy this, and hope you are all having a wonderful holiday season :)**

**Title: Cas Gets Cold**

**Setting: Season 9 human!Cas, typical AU where he's staying in the bunker.**

**Warnings: none**

Cas Gets Cold

"Is this sufficient, Dean?"

Dean looked up to see Castiel holding a half empty bottle of liquor where he stood beside the bowl of eggnog they had set out. He huffed a laugh. Cas and Sam both were heavy handed when it came to spiking the eggnog.

"Yeah, Cas, I think that's okay," he said.

"Good," Cas smiled. "Is there anything else I can help with?"

It was the first Christmas they had spent at the bunker; the first time they had had a home for, well, ever. And Cas was human, and things were hard, but Dean had been determined to do Christmas right that year, for his family as well as for himself. He just wanted to forget all their problems for the moment. At least for a couple days.

Now it was Christmas Eve, and they were getting the last of their decorations in order. Sam had even brought home a scraggly little tree the day before with a self-conscious shrug when Dean had rolled his eyes at him. Not that Dean really cared, he was just giving his brother a hard time. He was actually happy that Sammy seemed happy, and Cas as well. The former angel seemed to have relaxed quite a bit in the festive atmosphere, and as long as Dean's family was happy, so was he.

"See if you can make that tree stand up straight," Dean told him and Cas went to see to that while he went into the kitchen. Sure, they weren't having any of the fancy Christmas supper items, but Dean had made homemade pizza, and that was special enough. Any home cooked meal was special after the long years of bad diner food they had endured. Sometimes he really did wonder how he had lived so long.

He was just checking it when a shuffling crash came from the other room and Dean hurried in to see Cas had lost the fight with the tree and was currently lying under it, several red balls rolling away in various directions.

"I don't think it wanted to stand up straight, Dean," Cas said.

"You're supposed to put angles on top of trees, not under them," Dean smirked as he righted the tree and manhandled it into position as Cas gathered the escaped ornaments and put them back where they belonged.

"Why would you put an angel on top of a Christmas tree?" Castiel asked with his narrow-eyed confused look.

Dean, shrugged. "I don't know. Just tradition."

Sam came in from the outside then, bringing a cold gust of air and snow with him. He brushed his gloved hands off and shrugged out of his coat. "It's really dropping out there. They said on the news there is a big chance of a snowstorm. We'll have to get some more wood for the fire."

"Later, Sam, now it's time to eat." Dean told him, giving the tree one last adjustment and finally satisfied that it would stay, he went back to the kitchen. "The pizza is done. Am I not a master chef?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever. It does really smell good though. I won't even say anything about how you didn't put a single vegetable on it."

"Black olives totally qualify as a vegetable," Dean told him, affronted. He went to fetch his masterpiece while Sam and Cas set the table.

The pizza was indeed very good, which only made Dean act more full of himself, and afterward, they all retired to the study to watch some classic Christmas movies, which started an argument between Sam and Dean.

"Dude, we're totally watching _Home Alone_ first," Dean said, grabbing the dvd. "Then we can watch your _It's a Wonderful Life_."

"Fine, but you have to promise not to give a whole running commentary of sarcasm while we watch it," Sam said.

"Whatever, man," Dean told him and reached for the eggnog, pouring three cups. "I'll make popcorn."

"The fire's going out," Sam commented, going over to the fireplace to see to it and sighed. "Dean, we forgot to go get the wood from outside. The storm is setting in now."

"Well we need it, this place has terrible central heating," Dean said.

"I'll go," Castiel offered, getting off the couch.

"Sure, Cas?" Sam asked. "I can run out if you want."

"It's fine," Cas told them. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Take the sled and load up as much as you can," Dean called to him before heading into the kitchen to make popcorn.

Castiel nodded and climbed the stairs toward the outside door. He cast a glance at his jacket but decided he wouldn't be out there long enough to need it, and continued outside in just his current outfit of jeans and sweater.

He regretted his decision almost instantly as the cold blast of wind and snow hit him upon opening the door. He forgot so many times that things like cold, heat, hunger and weariness bothered him so much now that he was human. But he didn't go back to get his jacket and gloves. Of course he was cold, but that was normal for humans, and he would just have to learn to live with it.

The snow was blowing so hard now that he could hardly see where he was going. He was also shaking so much it was hard for him to walk. He glanced over his shoulder at the bunker wondering if he should go back and get his warmer clothes, but again decided against it. It wouldn't take him that long to collect the wood.

Once he went around to their wood pile, he loaded it up quickly on the sled. His fingers were frozen, his hands so numb he was clumsy getting the wood loaded. Maybe he had made a huge mistake. Perhaps being this cold wasn't a good thing and it wasn't just that he was more susceptible to it in his new human form.

He finished after several more attempts, accidentally dropping the wood and knocking his stacks over, and started back for the warmth of the bunker, only to find that he had lost his way in the blinding snow, and that all his footprints had been erased as well.

He stood for several minutes, shivering uncontrollably. When he still had his powers, he could have found his way by inner instinct, which he did not possess anymore. He decided that moving would be better than nothing and might warm him, so he set off in his best guess of the right direction and hoped for the best.

Back inside the bunker, Dean began to wonder where their friend had gotten to as the minutes dragged on.

"It shouldn't take him that long to get firewood," Dean commented, watching the guttering fire.

Sam didn't reply, he too starting to get worried. He walked toward the stairs leading to the door, to see if Cas was anywhere close when he caught sight of a jacket slung over the coat rack.

"Dean," he called, holding up the jacket and the pair of gloves that were stuffed into the pocket. "Cas doesn't have his jacket on."

"What?" Dean demanded, joining his brother. "Damn it, Cas. He's probably frozen to death out there. Come on, Sam, let's make sure he didn't get lost or something." Dean grabbed his own warm clothes and Sam did the same and they went outside with flashlights to find their lost friend.

"Cas!" Dean shouted into the blowing wind. He cursed and wrapped his arms tightly around himself. "It's freezing out here!"

Sam's tall frame was already shaking, and Dean couldn't imagine how Cas was feeling in only his normal clothes. It wasn't the first time Dean wanted to shoot himself for not checking up on Cas. He just forgot sometimes that he was human now. As did Cas, which was why he usually got into trouble.

Cas was stumbling along with the wood pulled behind him on the sled. He couldn't feel his hands at all now, not even to register them as cold. And his feet were the same, just lumps attached to his legs. He thought he saw a light flash up ahead and stopped trying to see it again, wondering if he had just imagined it. Then he saw it again, and heard faint shouting on the wind. Finally, it changed direction and he was able to make out the sound.

"Cas! Cas, where are you?"

It was Sam and Dean, come to his rescue. He was very grateful and at the same time, embarrassed. Could he not even collect wood alone without mishap?

"I'm here!" he tried to call, moving in their direction where he could see the lights. He didn't think his voice would reach them, but he was going toward them now, so hopefully they would know how to get back to the bunker.

"Cas!" Sam called.

"Here!" Castiel called as loudly as he could. It seemed even his vocal cords were frozen and the wind tore away the voice he had left. He stumbled in the snow and landed on his face, his frozen hands doing nothing to catch him. It was then that Sam and Dean spotted him as he forced himself from the snow. He felt their thumping footsteps through the ground.

"Cas! Hey," Sam said as he crouched down next to him and gave him a hand up. Dean was there on his other side in an instant and they drew him to his feet again. He tried to grab onto their jacket sleeves to help, but his fingers didn't seem to want to work anymore.

"Cas, what were you thinking going out without a jacket and gloves in this weather, man?" Dean demanded as he slung Castiel's arm over his shoulders and started off in the direction the bunker likely waited, while Sam took care of the wood.

"I forgot. I'm n-not u-used to being c-cold," Castiel tried to say, but his tongue was cold, unable to form words. Dean quickened his pace and finally they got to the door of the bunker and it was opened to light and a wave of warmth that made Castiel gasp in relief.

"You gotta take better care of yourself, man," Dean told him. "You've only got a human body now."

He practically drug Castiel into the study, his feet too frozen to feel, and put him on the couch as Sam worked to make the fire up again. Cas was hardly aware of Dean grabbing his hands, he couldn't feel them, only the slight pressure of Dean's fingers working life back into them. The older Winchester cursed.

"Your hands are popsicles, Cas! You'll be lucky if you don't have frost bite."

"We need to get him warm, Dean, he's not shivering enough," Sam said, worriedly as he ran to get some blankets.

"Damn it, Cas," Dean growled again, as he pulled Castiel's shoes off and propped his legs as close to the fire grate as he dared, then went back to chafing his hands and then vigorously massaging his arms and chest to get the blood flowing. Cas was finally shivering after a few minutes of that, and Dean relaxed slightly, though was still worried about the coldness of his hands and feet. Not to mention the red, burned look to his cheeks and nose where it wasn't caked with snow from his face plant. He swiftly took out a handkerchief and rubbed the snow that had gathered on his eyelids and eyelashes and in his hair, nearly freezing it solid.

Sam came back with as many blankets as he could find and several hot water bottles and heating pads. "I can make more hot water bottles if we need them," he said, settling them around Cas' body before he piled on the blankets and helped Dean tuck them in.

"Let's try these for now," Dean told him, watching as Cas began to shudder, his teeth practically chattering out of his head. "Get him some coffee." He tucked one of the water bottles underneath Cas' frozen feet and another under his hands. "Let me know as soon as you can feel anything in your hands," he said.

Cas nodded, shivering too hard to say anything. His hands and feet were so frozen he could barely feel the warmth from the heaters under them. Sam came back with the coffee soon after and held it for Cas to drink from. It took some doing as his teeth were chattering so badly, but he finally managed to get nearly half of it into Cas and watched his shivering subside a bit.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief and reached under the blankets to grip one of Cas' hands again, feeling if it had warmed up at all.

"It h-hurts, Dean," Cas got out.

"That's good," Dean told him, taking Cas' hands off the hot water bottle and chafing them together as the other man winced. "That means they're warming up. It will hurt for a while, but they'll get warm again soon. Once they thaw you'll have to tell me if there's any numbness in them still." He sat back and folded his arms over his chest. "You do realize how dangerous that was, don't you, Cas? If you were out there much longer you could have gotten really bad frostbite and-or hypothermia. You can't just run out in the snow in regular clothes."

"I'm s-sorry, I didn't think," Castiel replied, wincing as his hands and feet started tingling painfully, feeling like he was getting stabbed with thousands of pins. His face and nose felt much the same. "I d-didn't think that it was as b-bad as it was. That I j-just wasn't used to it."

Dean sighed. "I know you didn't know, Cas. But don't hesitate to ask Sam or me if you have any questions, that's why we're here."

"Yeah, we won't think any less of you, Cas," Sam said with a kind smile. "We know you're still learning and we're here to help you."

Castiel shuddered, trying to smile at his friends, his family, but his teeth were still chattering too much. "T-thank you. I d-do appreciate it."

Dean smiled and stood up, going to get the cups of eggnog before returning and sitting next to Cas on the couch to help him drink. "Here, this will warm you up for sure."

Cas coughed after the first sip, but his skin was getting some color back. Sam laughed at his breathless look. "See, Dean? My eggnog is way more drinkable than that."

"Well, it fits the bill nicely," Dean said with a grin as he took his own cup and braced himself for a sip. "Now, how about that movie?"

Castiel warmed up as they watched the movies and drank too much eggnog.

"Apparently my alcohol threshold is far lower as a human," he slurred to Dean, swaying slightly on the couch.

Dean artfully took his cup away. "Yeah, I'm cutting you off before you start dancing, and doing karaoke."

"Why would I start dancing, Dean?" Castiel asked with his confused expression, his head tilted to one side.

"I don't know, Cas, just watch the movie," Dean told him with a smirk.

Cas fell asleep on the couch and Dean and Sam decided to leave him there where it was warmer, after taking his temperature and making sure he had warmed up sufficiently. His hands and feet were no longer popsicles and his skin had gained back its usual color.

"Dude, we should totally decorate him," Dean said.

"Dean," Sam chuckled, dragging his brother away from their sleeping friend. "Leave him alone."

"Fine. Goodnight, Sammy. You better go to sleep or Santa won't come."

Sam shot him a look. "Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean replied fondly.

It was one of the best Christmases the Winchesters had ever had, their first real one in years. It was relaxed, happy, and they managed to forget all their problems as hoped for a day. They exchanged typical Winchester gifts that had been stashed under their scraggly tree, and ate lots of junk food, and watched more movies. Best of all, Dean felt like they were a family again, him and Sam and Cas, the last of their family left now and if felt nice. Nice that they could still enjoy these simple, happy moments together.

He only hoped that it would last for a lot longer than just that day.


End file.
